Another weekend in Paradise… Really?

It was a mostly uneventful weekend. Well, besides Jamie’s car not going into park on Saturday. It had just come out of the shop, where it spent a week, on Friday; because it wouldn’t come out of reverse.

Yeah, she’s not happy. So, it goes back to the shop this morning. Hopefully.

I met a writer friend on Saturday and we are contemplating collaborating on a novel. I am excited about it, I’ve never done fiction—well, not well, anyway. We met, had coffee and discussed it. Well, that and, of course, the Red Sox, the state of politics in America…you know stuff we can influence… Not so much. But it’s a project, and I am excited about it!

Jamie and Ian did the grocery shopping for me. They came home, and then Jamie and Ryan went back out for things they forgot, like Ben & Jerrys. Well, my Cherry Garcia anyway. Jamie had a full thing of Phish Food in the freezer…

She arrived home pretty frazzled, as I said, her car didn’t have park anymore. She decided she needed comfort food…Phish Food. Except there wasn’t any. Ben & Jerrys is a funny sort of thing; you want what you want of it—you like what you like. No substitutions allowed…

“What? What do you mean your ice cream is gone?”

Ryan asked if he could go outside. We ignored him.

“It’s just gone! No container in the freezer—gone. Who would eat my ice cream?”

Ryan sank to the floor and put his headphones on suddenly very interested in what was going on, on his laptop.

“Ryan, did you eat your mother’s ice cream?”

“No!”

“Ian?” I called into his room, “did you eat Jamie’s ice cream?”

“Um, no, I don’t like Phish Food. Ryan had ice cream, yesterday.” He went back to whatever was holding his attention on his laptop.

All eyes turned on Ryan.

“I had one bowl—one!”

“So, where’s the rest of it?” I asked. Jamie was sulking on the sofa. Broken car, no ice cream… It was a sulk-worthy moment.

“I don’t know. I had one bowl.”

Now, only one of two things could have happened to the ice cream.

1. Ryan put all of the ice cream—the whole pint—in that one bowl.

2. Ryan ate the remaining ice cream out of the container.

Creative truths annoy me. They are lies. Ryan and I have gone round and round about this. Had he asked for ice cream, in all likelihood, Jamie would have said yes. But he didn’t. Then he wasn’t honest about it.

After a short interrogation, Ryan admitted to eating all of his mother’s ice cream. His punishment was to clean Daxter’s cage. Daxter is a rainbow lorikeet. And her cage is foul. This seemed an apt punishment – there were suggestions that ranged from shoveling horse poop, to cleaning the whole house, to death (that person may have been PMSing).

Later, was the infamous card-war.

Yesterday, Easter, was a planned down day. We made a shepherd’s pie, and a roast chicken (Ian doesn’t eat shepherd’s pie – I know, I know, it’s craziness. We generally attribute it to his English genes—he has some of that on his father’s side).

I watched the eaglets in Decorah, for a while. I had to stop. They were latch-key kids yesterday—at 80ft off the ground. They wandered—tottered like Irishmen on St. Patrick’s Day—about the nest. Looking here, looking there. Scaring the bejezus out of me. When I started yelling at the computer, where the hell is your mother? Get back in the middle E3! E1 stop pecking at your brother! I knew it was time to do something else. I mean, I know about teenagers—not only could these guys accidentally skip a class (perhaps on nest boundaries), but they could eat their mom’s favorite treat, they could start discussions about dragons, or rice, or who knows what.

We watched Indiana Jones, the last one. I like it too, all the way up to the spaceship thing. It’s classic Indie until you get to that point. We then watched 2012 (John Cusack—anything with him in it is a worthy watch), and then the new Star Trek. A good time was had by all.

Strider played attack the tissues. Strider believes that tissues are demons—and she must eradicate them from the world. She attacks with vengeance and does not give up until it’s confetti. When she is restless, we give her a tissue—and back up quickly. She will eat the hand that feeds her tissue. Yesterday, she discovered they come in boxes. Lots of them all together!

And now it’s Monday. We’ll drop Jamie’s car at the shop. I’ll go back to work, where I am an assistant short, and hopefully I’ll get some rest!

2 thoughts on “Another weekend in Paradise… Really?”

I’m jazzed about our project too! I think it will be a wonderful collaborative experience, whatever the result. I can’t wait to start–the creative juices are full on! Thanks for helping me over the hump…

Great weekend for the Sox. Considering the upheaval of last season, and the integration of new personnel–and not just anybody–this season, it makes sense they need some time to develop cohesiveness. There’s a parallel here to our venture , I think. All we need is patience and eyes on the goal, and our efforts should be, “duh, winning!” Now if only Saltalamacchia would get his shite together, I would feel even better…

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